Derek, Stiles and everything else
by Bookjunk
Summary: For once it isn't his own mouth that gets Stiles into trouble. Yay? Derek/Stiles Chapter 8: 'Hey, I've been thinking,' Stiles mumbled, his voice muffled by Derek's mouth. 'I'm overqualified to be your boyfriend.'
1. Mouths

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**Mouths**

Light was fading fast. Stiles glanced at Derek. They were in the woods for one of their bi-monthly quests which could possibly result in Stiles' death. Most likely a Derek Hale induced death, because as usual Stiles was stuck with his least favourite werewolf. Or he is stuck with me; depends on who you talk to, Stiles thought. He had the distinct feeling that he was of zero use and idly wondered how he always managed to get dragged along on these crazy trips. It was Scott's fault and to make matter worse Scott had practically skipped off as soon as they'd reached the tree line – the bastard. When Derek stopped walking to glare at him, Stiles realized that Derek had been talking and he hadn't been listening.

'Hmmm?' Stiles said, managing to sound kind of polite but not all that interested. That turned out to be the wrong tone. He was pushed backwards until his shoulder bumped right into a tree. Looking up at Derek, Stiles attempted to mould his face into an approximation of a smile.

'You're looking at my lips,' Derek claimed. Stiles thought he had gotten that annoying habit under control, but apparently not. Great. Feigning innocence, he coughed once. Then, when that didn't work, he coughed a second time. It was a really good one too. Discreet, but distracting. Still, Derek continued to stare at him.

'Dude, at least say mouth,' Stiles protested, shaking off Derek's hand. He winced when he heard his voice do that slightly higher pitched thing it did when he was nervous. It didn't get more suspicious than that. Shit. So much for casual.

'Why?'

'That sounds less… Would you kindly back up? Just say mouth. And back up,' Stiles requested. Derek rolled his eyes, but obliged on both counts.

'Why were you looking at my mouth?' he demanded, stepping back.

'You've got teeth the size of piano keys,' Stiles blurted out, quickly thrusting out his hands in self-defence. 'Okay, I don't know why I said that. That's obviously not true. I'm sorry.'

Derek crossed his arms. A brief silence followed during which his piercing stare intensified. It was all very uncomfortable. Stiles, who had never met an awkward moment he couldn't make a million times more awkward by saying some stupid shit, tried to explain the situation in a way that hopefully wouldn't get him killed.

'Well, sorry, I guess. I don't mean to. It just happens. When you're all 'grrr' and close, your lips are sort of the first thing my eyes land on. I can't help it. Why are you getting on my case about this? It's not like I'm doing it on purpose.'

'You said lips,' Derek pointed out. A flush crept up Stiles' cheeks, but it was almost dark. Maybe Derek didn't see. Who the hell was he kidding? Like a freaking werewolf wouldn't notice that.

'Lips, mouth, whatever,' Stiles muttered. His eyes scanned their surroundings to check if anyone was nearby. Not that he could afford the luxury of worrying about this at the moment – busy as he was trying to make it out of this fiasco alive – but Scott was around here somewhere and if he heard this exchange, Stiles would just die. Besides, they were done now, right? Mystery all cleared up. Yep, nothing left to talk about. Stiles tentatively resumed walking. To his immense relief, Derek soon did the same.

'Do you like my mouth?' Derek asked. Stiles' jaw dropped. He cleared his throat. Twice. He forced out a distinctly hysterical sounding laugh. Was there even a right answer to that question?

'You need me to tell you that you're good looking now?' he finally joked, quickening his pace. It wasn't wholly unexpected when he subsequently found himself pinned to the nearest tree with Derek all up in his face. Without meaning to, Stiles lowered his gaze.

'You're doing it again,' Derek growled.

'Stop shoving me up against trees then,' Stiles countered, adding a disgruntled, 'Jesus.'

'Stop staring at my lips.'

'No,' Stiles replied, bluntly. Derek's eyes widened. Defiance was not a smart move. Stiles knew this. He had made up his own Zombieland-style survival manual a long time ago. And right now he was violating rule number one: _#1 Don't taunt Derek Hale. Ever. _Fully aware that this was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea, Stiles' brain ran with it anyway. He leaned forward, maintaining eye contact.

'Watch how I can't take my eyes off your mouth. Oh yes, I'm ogling those lips now. Bite them for me, baby. You're so attractive. I can't resist you,' he fawned. The effect on Derek? Nada. Nothing. Zip. He actually seemed blasé, which gave Stiles pause. Derek raised his eyebrows. Stiles surrendered with a frustrated groan.

'You really want me to say it? Yeah, your mouth is beautiful, okay? Moving on.'

'That's not what I asked,' Derek said, his voice low. For a second, Stiles didn't get what he meant, but then it hit him. Derek didn't want facts. He wanted opinions. Specifically, for some reason, Stiles' opinion. His throat felt awfully dry all of a sudden.

'Oh my God,' he huffed, exasperated. 'I, Stiles, like your mouth. That's why I look at it. There. Happy?'

Derek narrowed his eyes and slowly let go of the front of Stiles' shirt. He looked satisfied. Unable to resist the absurd urge to belatedly cop some more attitude, Stiles petulantly straightened his clothes. Without another word, they started to walk.

Silence was good. It didn't need to be filled up or anything. Stiles slid his tongue over his teeth, touching one at the back that felt a little hinky. He focused on his breathing. In. Out. He heard Derek's breathing, uncharacteristically rough for such mild exercise, next to him. He flexed his fingers into fists. He was not going to say anything. Not-talking was fine. He was not going to break this nice not at all tense silence.

'For a handsome guy you sure need a lot of validation. You're welcome, you know. Hey, what about _my_ mouth?' Stiles rambled, mentally slapping himself on the forehead. Ugh. Shut up, Stiles. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Derek gave him a long, hard look.

'It's not made for talking,' Derek deadpanned. It sounded sort of like a joke, but a scary one. Stiles decided not to pursue it. That was probably the first intelligent thing he'd done that day. He was not an idiot. Really, he was not. He just got bored easily.

'Fair enough.'


	2. Mouths, still

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**Mouths, still**

'Fair enough,' Stiles repeated, mentally tacking on, _whatever you say, Derek_. As a bonus, he nodded vigorously to show that he agreed. Oh God, this moment was lasting forever and Stiles could already feel boredom settling over him again like some crazy-making blanket. He was about to say something when – sweet merciful Jesus – Scott appeared.

'Scott! Hi! Derek, Scott is here!'

Derek paid absolutely no attention to the ridiculous display that was Stiles flailing around. He simply nodded curtly at Scott and disappeared into the trees. Stiles waited a while and then heaved a sigh of relief. Beaming, he caught Scott on the shoulder with a friendly jab.

'Dude, I could kiss you,' Stiles gushed. Scott looked mightily embarrassed. More embarrassed than was strictly called for under the circumstances, Stiles thought.

'I'll pass,' Scott replied drily, immediately following that up with, 'Did you just have a conversation with Derek about how pretty his mouth is?'

'No…'

Stretching out a word didn't suddenly make it the truth. That was a lesson Stiles never really learned. Damn Scott and his stupid werewolf senses, he thought instead. Denial was futile.

'Alright, yeah, _that_ happened,' Stiles admitted.

'Why?'

'Cause he asked.'

Scott frowned.

'Derek Hale asked you if you thought he had a pretty mouth?'

'I need you to stop saying pretty mouth. Seriously, please stop,' Stiles pleaded. His best friend snickered.

'I'm trying to wrap my head around this, I swear. I just want to understand,' Scott protested. He looked serious, but sounded oh so amused.

'I think it's better for our friendship if you forget that you heard that. Let's do that.'

'I can't! It's too funny.'

Scott burst out laughing while Stiles squirmed.

'Not cool, bro. He said that my mouth isn't for talking. What do you think that means?'

'Must be code for shut up, Stiles.'

'No, that can't be it.'


	3. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows**

A couple of days later.

Absentmindedly, Stiles turned off the radio and tried to focus on his homework. After a few minutes, he caught himself staring out of the window, mumbling 'it's not made for talking' under his breath. So, he was officially obsessing about this. Awesome.

_It's not made for talking._ Meaning: his mouth. It was just an obscure thing Derek had said that probably didn't mean anything. The problem was the vagueness of it. Derek's insults – if that's what it was meant to be – were usually very clear. Ditto Derek's threats. So, why the weird ambiguous comment? Stiles chewed on the drawing string of his hoodie for a while.

_It's not made for talking. _Well, what else were mouths for? Breathing. Stiles felt confident that Derek hadn't meant that. Ten to one his breathing - like everything else about him - annoyed Derek. Eating? He did sort of have to stop talking when he was eating: Derek would definitely consider that a plus. But Scott was wrong. If Derek had meant shut up then he would have said shut up. Or glared at him pointedly. That rarely worked, but Derek – bless his little werewolf heart – kept trying anyway.

Stiles took the string out of his mouth to look at it. It was nasty. Gross, he thought, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Maybe my mouth is made for chewing drawing strings, he speculated. Because that was something Derek would say, right? No, it really wasn't. Stiles sighed.

'Not made for talking, not made for talking,' he mused, clicking his teeth. Still no closer to an epiphany. What _do_ people do with their mouths? Stiles swirled his chair around. Noticed Derek. Fell out of his chair.

'Can you stop acting like a clown for a second?' Derek barked. I'm not acting, Stiles thought, but he succeeded in keeping that unspoken. Wonderful. Because that would have sounded borderline retarded.

'There's this thing called knocking. You should try it sometime,' Stiles suggested while getting to his feet. He knew that Derek didn't appreciate back talk, but this was a vast improvement on the first response that had popped into his mind. Progress! Derek ignored him and carefully closed the door.

'Can we talk? Without the typical wise ass remarks?'

'Okay,' Stiles said, hesitantly. Derek started to pace.

'The other day, I thought...'

'That I think you have a pretty mouth? Yeah, I can see how you would have gotten that impression,' Stiles interrupted. He shrugged – like, whatcha gonna do? – and drummed his fingers on the desk. Momentarily at a loss for words, Derek almost sat down on the bed, before he appeared to realise on whose bed he would be sitting and what kind of message that would send. Immediately, he resumed pacing. For Stiles - used to being the most awkward person in the room at all times – the sensation of seeing someone be so incredibly uneasy in his own skin was a new one.

'It's alright to be attracted to guys,' Derek assured him. There was a tiny, bemused silence and then Stiles laughed in Derek's face. It was one of those things that you maybe shouldn't do if you valued your life, but oh, this was fantastic.

'You think that I'm... No, you've got it all wrong, buddy. I'm not experiencing gay angst. _Please_. This is not any old angst. This is very specific angst. Derek Hale angst.'

Derek stopped pacing. Goodness, what big eyes you have, Stiles thought. And hands. And mouth. And, focus.

Honestly, Stiles wasn't experiencing any angst at all, but Derek seemed to think he was. And Stiles was nothing if not cooperative. Nonetheless, he felt a little guilty. Derek was trying to do something nice. A rare occurrence. The poor guy was clearly uncomfortable and yet he'd taken the trouble to make sure that Stiles wasn't struggling with his sexuality.

'By the way, if my mouth is not for talking, then what is it for? I've been thinking about this. Breathing? Eating? Were you calling me fat? If so, very subtly done. God forbid; singing? Biting? I guess that kind of falls under eating, unless...'

'Kissing, dumbass.'

The short outburst was delivered in the usual 'shut up, Stiles' way and Derek continued to furiously pace some more. Still, Stiles smirked.

'You're flirting? That's what this is? Whoa. And I thought that I was pathetic. So, you wanna date me or something?'

'I don't date.'

'I can see why.'

Opening one of the drawers of his desk, Stiles rummaged through its contents. He unearthed a lollipop, unwrapped it and stuck it into his mouth.

'Don't provoke me, Stiles,' Derek ordered. Stiles raised an eyebrow and sucked extra loudly to egg Derek on. Plainly with a lot of effort, Derek restrained himself. This was normally a good thing. Now, however, Stiles kind of wanted to see what would happen if he pushed Derek too far.

'This is a bad idea,' Derek warned. Unfazed, Stiles took the lollipop out of his mouth, making a popping sound with his lips. He grinned.

'Never stopped me before,' Stiles said. And then, out of left field...

'I can't love you,' Derek stated. Stiles' face went slack. He was dumbfounded. Speechless. Love? _Love_?

'You don't love me?' Derek asked. Regaining feeling in his face and control over his tongue, Stiles fumbled around trying to formulate a response. The echo of Derek's wounded tone of voice kept tripping him up. It was so unlike Derek.

'What? I, uh... Derek, man, that's really flattering that you'd... I mean, you know... Thanks. That's...'

'Never mind,' Derek sighed, putting a stop to Stiles' verbal avalanche. 'Good talk.'

Derek left, leaving Stiles with something else to obsess about.


	4. Hummingbird heartbeat

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**Hummingbird heartbeat**

Ten minutes later.

'...and then he literally said that he couldn't love me, but basically he said that he loved me. So, yeah, any advice?'

Scott just sat there, blinking. His eyebrows had been rising steadily while he listened to Stiles' unique tale of the unexpected. My tale is way more disturbing than anything Roald Dahl could ever have thought up and that guy was freaky, Stiles noted with a twisted sense of satisfaction. He bounced out of his chair.

'Scott, best friend, heterosexual life partner, platonic soul mate of mine, I really need you to _talk_ right now. The stuff that's whooshing around in that big head of yours, you have to put those thoughts into vowels and consonants for me. Come on, speak,' Stiles pleaded. He came dangerously close to shaking his friend. That might have worked against him though, so Stiles refrained. Instead, he waited as patiently as he could manage, which wasn't very patiently at all.

After what seemed like an eternity of contemplation, Scott opened his mouth. Ah, here it comes, Stiles thought. Useful suggestions. Valuable insight. Wisdom. Expectations were high. That was why it was a tad disappointing when all Scott did was urge him to look on the bright side.

'There's a bright side?' Stiles asked, genuinely puzzled. He scrunched up his face in an effort to think of one.

'We finally have an answer to the age old question: do gay guys find you attractive?' Scott provided, looking pleased with himself.

'That's super helpful, Scott. Thanks,' Stiles scoffed, throwing in a hollow laugh for good measure. Derek wasn't even gay; he was clearly bisexual. It was as if Scott didn't understand the severity of the situation. It was as if Stiles' life was a source of endless amusement to him. It probably is, Stiles admitted.

He raked his hand through his hair. What was he gonna do? He had finally gotten used to Derek's hostility and now this. Come to think of it, this would probably be worse. This was new and he remembered how intense Derek's hatred had been at the beginning. Over time it had mellowed until it became what it was now: a nice, dependable sort of dislike.

Would Derek's love be just as intense at the start? Judging by that tragic declaration of not-love Stiles would have to guess; yes. There had been a touch of melodrama about it too, which would make Derek a drama queen and, hey, queen, that was funny, well, a little politically incorrect, but true, nevertheless, not that he would ever dare say that to Derek's face, though he could picture vividly how Derek would react to being called theatrical, oh, the gnashing of teeth and then some tearing of limbs; Stiles' limbs most likely...

'Is it just my imagination or is every conversation I have with you lately about Derek?' Scott asked, rudely interrupting Stiles increasingly erratic and violent train of thought.

'Let me stop you right there. The answer to that question is almost invariably yes. Yes, it's your imagination,' Stiles responded. Except... Wasn't Scott right? Not that it mattered in the current crisis, but that might be something to set aside for a later date.

'I know that I'm usually not the one bringing him up and I've noticed that...'

'Scott, focus. Derek loves me. This is huge. I didn't even know Derek _had_ feelings. Besides barely restrained rage, of course,' Stiles ranted, wallowing in some hard-earned self-pity. 'Why is this happening to me? I really don't need the added stress of being in love with Derek frigging Hale.'

'I think you mean that the other way around,' Scott ventured, keeping his face carefully blank. Stiles went over what he had said and rolled his eyes when he realised what he'd said.

'Obviously. Because I'm not in love with Derek. When was I supposed to fall for him? When he threatened to rip out my throat with his teeth? When he banged my head into the steering wheel? When he almost forced me to cut off his freaking arm? The guy's a total nut job! So, I might have copped a feel in the pool that one time. And once or twice or maybe three times on other occasions. So what? I barely even like him. In fact, I think I might hate him. Don't look at me like that, Scott. I'm pretty sure he hates me too. I _know_ that I annoy the hell out of him.'

'Maybe you two have got a love hate relationship,' Scott suggested.

'Nope, just hate,' Stiles stated. Except... they did resemble one of those bickering couples pop culture loves so much. Another thing to be addressed later, Stiles decided.

'But you care about him, right? You did save him a bunch of times,' Scott insisted.

'Threats of teeth ripping out throats were uttered. Helping Derek is always more about staying alive than anything else. What's that face? Why are you making that face?' Stiles inquired, pointing an accusing finger at the offending face. Scott sighed.

'Stiles, when you talk about Derek, your heart goes all pitter-patter.'

'It does not!' Stiles protested. Except... it kind of did.

'It's actually kind of cute,' Scott added, ignoring him.

'Okay, it might thump a little faster. It does. But that's fear,' Stiles explained. Except... Well, you get the point: it wasn't. Scott knew it too. He fixed Stiles with a cut-the-crap expression.

'Sure,' Scott acquiesced, but his tone remained sceptical (sarcastic, to be honest) and his face didn't lose that irritating 'I don't buy what you're selling' expression. That face needs to shut up, Stiles grumbled mentally. He plopped down in his chair again, a great deal more confused than before his friend had arrived. So much for Scott's help.

Stiles still had no idea how to make Derek not love him again. He wasn't even sure if that was what he wanted anymore. He had actually gone backwards. Scott glanced at his watch.

'I have to go. Okay, have fun pretending that you're not in love with Derek.'

'I _will_,' Stiles replied, petulantly. 'Wait, what?'


	5. The concept of audacity

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**The concept of audacity**

That same week. Friday.

Stiles had been trying to trick his brain into thinking that this would a regular day. Yes, he'd gotten up earlier this morning, which left him with a half hour window before class, but that didn't mean that he was about to do something insane. He could do _anything _in that time. He could revise his math homework, trying not to think about werewolves. He could spend the extra time lying in bed, dreaming about werewolves. He could jerk off while fantasising about werewolves. The possibilities were endless. For the moment, Stiles chose to ignore that they, weirdly, all featured werewolves in one way or another.

Or he could go over to Derek's place and get to the bottom of this whole 'I can't love you' business. There was no need to be nervous if he was just going to half-heartedly look over his sums again. But Stiles' brain refused to be tricked. Like it already knew which of those options he had picked.

(***)

Fifteen minutes later.

Stiles was standing in front of Derek's door. He was long past the having-to-be-persuaded stage, but he was in dire need of an inspirational speech. He needed to get pumped up. Psyched. Hence the pep talk.

'Okay. Okay, okay, okay. You're doing this.'

Not much a pep talk, really. Sort of embarrassingly inept. Pathetic. Okay, not helping. Stiles lifted his hand to knock, but decided instead to check if the door was open. It was. He didn't try to sneak, because he wasn't very good at that. He walked inside, encountering Derek immediately. There was a collision. Stiles might have yelped. It was not a good start.

'Hi, so...' was about as far as Stiles got into the pre-planned part of the conversation before he was cut off.

'You're wrong,' Derek sneered. Stiles frowned. Wrong about_ what? _Hi? So? The knots in Stiles' stomach weren't exactly thrilled with the amount of hostility in the air. Derek stalked to the other side of the loft and turned his back on him. Derek's shoulders were communicating that he wanted Stiles to leave right now and preferably never come back.

'You said that you couldn't love me,' Stiles said, as if either of them needed the reminder. With every word Stiles uttered, Derek got more agitated. It was all in his shoulders. Everything in there was tightening, twisting, coiling under the skin.

'I'm warning you, Stiles. Forget it.'

'Not happening.'

'I can't do this. Go away. I can't love you.'

Stiles could have sworn he saw the tension in Derek's shoulders dial up a notch. It was scary to watch.

'Yeah, so you keep insisting, but you kind of say it in a way that leads me to believe that contrary to your words, you do, you know, love me,' Stiles replied. Honestly, he was growing kind of tired of having a conversation with Derek's shoulders. They were expressive and all that, but he hadn't come to chat to body parts. He wanted to be able to at least try and read Derek's expression. So, Stiles walked and walked and walked (the loft was huge) until he reached Derek. Then Stiles touched the other man's shoulder. At that, Derek hissed and spun around. Stiles quickly pulled away his hand.

He also reconsidered this whole wanting to see Derek's face thing. Because Derek gave him this _look_ and frankly Stiles was surprised that he wasn't incinerated on the spot. He found himself almost believing in spontaneous combustion. Fiery deaths for the both of them! That was some serious anger right there. The stuff explosions are made of. Derek was quivering with the sheer force of it.

'Why are you still here?' Derek bit at him. 'Didn't I warn you? Didn't I make it clear? Do you have a death wish or something? Get out. GET. OUT.'

Still, Stiles stood his ground. Derek looked restless and as if the violence boiling inside of him would spill over if you just gave him a little nudge. But it won't, Stiles suddenly realised. The only reason Derek was snarling and snapping at him was because he was scared too. In fact, now that this explanation had occurred to Stiles, he noticed that Derek could barely meet his eyes. Choking back an ill-timed quip, Stiles spoke with more bravery than he felt.

'Dude, I don't have all day. Do you or don't you love me? If you don't; fine, I'm clearly a crazy person who can't read people at all. If you do, though, spit it out. So?'

Derek, looking the other way, gave a tight, nearly imperceptible nod. There was some inaudible mumbling involved too. Unsatisfied, Stiles crossed his arms.

'I didn't catch that,' he said.

'I love you!' Derek roared. Stiles' mind was racing again.

'Okay,' he said. 'Objectively speaking this is the probably the worst idea ever, but, hey, I'm willing to give it a try. If you're game; I'm game.'

Derek stared at him, clearly amazed. This is not the outcome he expected, Stiles thought. He briefly wondered what kind of reaction Derek had been anticipating. Fear? Disgust? Mockery? Definitely rejection.

'You're always ready for the worst, huh?' Stiles asked. Derek responded by shrugging. Neither of them moved or breathed for a while. Slowly, something started to happen to Derek's face. He smiled. It was a strange smile. Not one Stiles had seen during those rare times that he had seen Derek smile. Not smug. Not amused by Stiles' stupidity. Not dangerous. Not sarcastic. It was a seductive, yet shy smile. Stiles swallowed, nervous all over again, as Derek sidled up close.

Derek was going to kiss him any second now, unless Stiles did something. Unless he screwed it up. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Stiles coughed. In Derek's half-open mouth. Oh, Jesus. To Derek's credit, he didn't seem to mind. He blinked, waited to see if Stiles was done and proceeded. Well, bodily fluids were going to be exchanged anyway...

'Wait,' Stiles blurted out. 'I wanna get something cleared up first. You don't hate me?'

'I hate you a little bit,' Derek admitted, playfully. Playfully! Derek! Life was rapidly turning into some bizarre fever dream. Stiles lightly punched Derek's shoulder, as if Derek was Scott. As if they were friends. As if he was allowed to touch Derek.

'But not as much as you love me,' Stiles finished Derek's sentence, which was a surreal thing to say in and of itself, especially to Derek Hale. Derek nodded in agreement. He moved in for a kiss again and was once again stopped by Stiles.

'I'm going to be late for school. I'll come by after,' Stiles promised, feeling decidedly like a coward. Who cares about school? Here was his chance to make out with this hot guy whom he really liked and Stiles was bailing. He was splitting and running. What was wrong with him?


	6. Satsuma, live wasp

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**Satsuma, live wasp...**

Still Friday. Still not making out with Derek.

'You smell funny,' Scott whispered as Stiles slid behind his desk.

'New deodorant. Thanks for noticing,' Stiles replied.

'No, that's not it. It's something else,' his friend asserted. Scott craned over his own desk until his nose was almost on Stiles' shoulder.

'Stop it,' Stiles hissed, pushing him away.

'Do I smell Derek on you?'

'I doubt it. Now concentrate, Scott. We're here to learn. Well, some of us. Not me personally, but I'm sure that a few people here are eager to get an education. I mean, take Greenberg...'

'Stilinski!' Coach Finstock bellowed. 'Shut up. McCall. Quit your sniffing. You look like a tweaker. If you don't know what that means, don't ask me. Do I look like the internet? Bing it.'

Stiles shook his head. It made him sad to encounter that much stupidity in this atypically enlightened day and age.

'I think you mean _google it_, coach,' he piped up, attempting to sound helpful. He exchanged an amused glance with Scott.

'Yeah, coach. I don't think anyone bings anything,' Scott joined in, grinning.

'Do you own a Zune, coach?' Stiles asked, addressing the follow up exclusively to Scott, 'I bet he does.'

At this point, they were both trying to keep from laughing and Coach Finstock was groping for his whistle.

'Both of you: detention!'

(***)

Friday. 20:49.

Texts weren't very good at conveying emotion. This wasn't helped by the fact that Derek refused to use emoticons. And he wasn't very liberal with exclamation marks and capital letters either; no matter how foul his mood was. The end result was this text:

_fine_

Somehow, Stiles didn't think that Derek was really fine with the multiple delays. However, when Stiles apprehensively entered the apartment, he only found his maybe boyfriend staring at a mandarin.

'You're late,' Derek remarked.

'Detention. Dinner with my dad. Homework. Making up something to get out of the house,' Stiles explained, ticking every obstacle off on his fingers. By the time he reached the end of the list Stiles was thinking what a hassle it was to be a teenager. Worse; he could see how Derek might think what a hassle it was to _date_ a teenager. That wasn't a thought he wanted in Derek's head, so Stiles rambled on.

'Meanwhile, you were doing something disturbing, no doubt. With that Satsuma.'

'What?'

Stiles gestured at the piece of fruit that Derek had been studying with considerable concentration. Stiles wondered what it would be like to be that mandarin. It was the way Derek was holding it; gentle but firm. Yep, Stiles wanted to be that Satsuma. Jealous of an orange: well, hello, new low.

'The thing you're staring at. It's a Satsuma. You know, a mandarin, a tangerine, an orange,' Stiles summed up, racking his brain for more synonyms and tripping over a stack of shelves in the process. The ground approached at an alarming speed and then abruptly stopped. A strong hand bunched in Stiles' shirt pulled him into an upright position again.

'Impressive reflexes,' Stiles complimented. Derek slowly took his hand away, as if Stiles would fall over without its support. That was a possibility. Stiles' clumsiness knew no bounds.

'I've been meaning to assemble that fucking thing,' Derek admitted, not actually using the word sorry, but Stiles heard it somewhere in there anyway. Not that he really required the additional excitement of an unprecedented Derek Hale apology. Not while Derek was circling him. Not when Derek's hot breath on his neck was already giving him chills.

'Want me to help you?' Stiles offered. 'Might be nice having someone to blame when part A and part B don't fit.'

Derek literally walked around Stiles. Clockwise. He is stalking me, Stiles realised. Like a predator. The realisation was thrilling. Derek placed a hand on Stiles' left shoulder. Stiles shuddered. He could feel each individual fingertip as Derek's hand made its way down his spine. The circle completed, Derek appeared before Stiles and kissed him.

So, this was what kissing Derek felt like. It felt weirdly safe. Like kissing a live wire and feeling only the tingle of a sparkler on your lips. Like kissing danger and discovering that the wolf you were expecting was in reality a kitten. Obviously this was a good thing, but it was also slightly disappointing. As if Derek knew what he was thinking, the kiss became rougher. That was much better. Stiles lost his breath when teeth came into play. That was _amazing_.

Then Derek's hands, lips, teeth were suddenly gone. Stiles opened his eyes. Derek was on his knees in front of him. Stiles noticed the screwdriver in Derek's hand, but not before his brain had imagined something a whole lot dirtier. Quietly, Stiles got on his knees too. He rooted through the material for a scrap of paper, but there was nothing. Since they were both not the type to follow instructions anyway, Stiles decided that this saved them some time.

'Here. Hold this,' Derek commanded. Stiles did as he was told, surprising himself. What was that again about not following instructions? Yeah, apparently a really great kiss worked miracles. Derek began to assemble the bookcase with visible ease. Still, Stiles feared the worst. DIY projects had a habit of turning out lopsided or dingy whenever he was involved.

'Citrus unshiu. Ha! Didn't think I knew that, did ya?' Stiles exclaimed. Sheepishly, he told Derek that it was the synonym he had been looking for. _Why _was he being such a dork? Why? The last thing Stiles expected was for Derek to crack up; yet that was exactly what happened.

'How do you know this shit?' Derek asked, smiling and shaking his head.

'I spend a lot of time surfing the web when I should be doing homework.'

'Reading about oranges?'

'You'd rather I was surfing for porn?' Stiles inquired. There was a fine line between talking and flirting and that line had always been completely hidden from his view. This moment, though, right here, was when Stiles crossed it. He was flirting. Not very well probably, but he was doing it. He was intentionally flirting.

'I'll be all the porn you need,' Derek replied. I'll be damned, Stiles thought. Despite his earlier poor performance, Derek was clearly the king of flirting. I guess it's easier when you know the other person is into you too, Stiles reasoned. When he reached for a screw, he saw that it was not a screw, but a dead wasp. Stiles – not wanting Derek to accidentally step on it while barefoot – picked up the wasp with the idea of throwing it in the trash.

'No, not dead,' Stiles cried, immediately dropping the wasp. 'Oh my God, that stings. Ow, ow, ow. Pain.'

In the umpteenth revelation of the day, Derek popped Stiles' finger into his mouth and started to suck. Stiles practically swooned. Don't be weird, he cautioned himself to no avail.

'This is _so_ hot,' he mumbled. Derek rolled his eyes. It was a little less hot when Derek had to spit out the poison. But - in all honestly - even that was still sensual. Stiles was starting to believe that he might have a mouth fetish or something, because, seriously, spitting wasp venom into a kitchen sink was not supposed to be erotic. Right?

'Do you want to spend the night?' Derek asked.

'Yes!'


	7. and nightmares

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**...and nightmares**

'Or is it too soon to spend the night? Not that I don't want to. Boy, do I ever. But maybe we're moving too fast. Unless you want to,' Stiles yammered, his aching finger all but forgotten. Derek regarded him with an amused air.

'I asked you, remember?'

'Yes then. Spending the night. Here. With you. Yes, to that,' Stiles said. He didn't so much stop talking as Derek shut him up by kissing him. It was really the best way to be shushed, provided the right person was doing the kissing.

Immediately, they started to move towards the bed. Stiles didn't know whether it was Derek who was propelling them along or whether he was doing it himself. Probably a little bit of both. Like a Ouija board when there were no supernatural creatures available. Stiles was trying pretty hard not to freak out, but it was difficult.

When Derek took off his shirt, Stiles momentarily forgot about being nervous. Almost methodically, Derek removed Stiles' shirt and kissed him while pushing him down on the bed. He nosed Stiles' throat; breathing in his scent. The only points of contact were Derek's nose and mouth on the younger man's neck and Derek's thighs against his hips. Stiles wished Derek would cover him completely. He wanted to feel the weight of Derek's body on top of him.

They kissed for a while. Derek nipped gently; swiping his tongue soothingly over the faint marks his teeth left. His hands explored Stiles' body. They started at his wrists and travelled over his arms, across his shoulders, down his chest to his abdomen.

Stiles' nerves returned in full force when Derek teased the end of his belt out of the first loop and began to unbuckle Stiles' pants. This is happening, Stiles marvelled; this is really happening. He gulped, like cartoonishly loud; as if there should be a tiny balloon with the word 'GULP' above his head. Derek's hands, curled around the belt and feeling wonderfully warm against Stiles' skin, paused.

'What's wrong?' he asked. Stiles scrambled into an upright position. They were now both on their knees on the bed, facing each other. Derek's fingers slid tantalisingly slow out from underneath Stiles' belt.

'Uhm, I have to admit that when you asked me if I wanted to spend the night I'd hoped that this would happen. Because spending the night doing this with you would be awesome. I just feel that before awesomeness ensues I need to tell you that I have sort of, not by design mind you, never done this before. And by this, I don't mean specifically _this_,' Stiles clarified, frantically waving a hand between the two of them.

'I mean sex in general. I haven't had any yet whatsoever. I'm a virgin,' Stiles concluded, cringing. If there was a prize for the most clumsily delivered 'I'm a virgin' speech then this was a sure-fire winner. Was this a deal breaker? Stiles tried to read Derek's expression, but it remained inscrutable.

'I don't know why I'm surprised. Your people skills are non-existent,' Derek finally said. He sat back on his heels, swinging one leg out from under him and stepped off the bed. Sex was clearly off the menu for tonight as far as Derek was concerned. Stiles sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

'Seriously? You of all people are seriously ragging on my people skills?' Stiles protested. Derek collected their T-shirts from the floor. Was he going to send Stiles home now? Did no sex equal not spending the night?

'Can I still stay?' Stiles asked, getting to his feet a lot less gracefully than Derek had. The older man knit his brows.

'Do you wanna?'

Stiles shrugged, affecting a nonchalance that he really, really didn't feel. Yeah, he wanted to. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with Derek. He wanted to lie next to Derek, fall asleep listening to Derek's breathing and wake up to Derek's bad temper. He wanted the good and the bad and the fun and the boring and the pleasure and the pain. He wanted everything. Hell yeah, he wanted to stay.

'Sleeping together might be nice,' Stiles nodded. Derek groaned.

'Okay, we can sleep,' he acceded.

'Thanks.'

'Yeah, yeah. Just cover yourself up, for fuck's sake,' Derek said gruffly, tossing Stiles his shirt. Quickly, Stiles pulled it over his head. Derek was about to put his own shirt back on when Stiles made another request.

'Can you keep your shirt off, though?'

Derek hesitated.

'Can you keep your hands to yourself?'

'I solemnly swear that there'll be no inappropriate touching,' Stiles promised, standing to attention with his right hand over his heart. Derek dropped his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. He started to take off his shoes. Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket.

'I have to call Scott,' he announced, his thumb landing on his best friend's name. 'By the way, you're gonna have to get a TV if you expect me to spend any time here.'

That was such a lie, but he had to say something because Derek was undressing and, Jesus, _Derek was undressing._ Now down to only his boxers, Derek flopped down on the bed.

'I think I can keep you entertained,' Derek said, smirking. I bet you can, Stiles thought, padding away from temptation. Scott picked up on the first ring.

'Stiles, hi.'

'Hi. Scott, I told my dad that I'm staying over at your place. Okay?'

'Sure,' Scott agreed. He didn't ask what Stiles needed the alibi for and Stiles didn't offer. He was too busy staring at Derek. He ended the call, not even realising that he'd forgotten to thank Scott or say goodbye. Derek was under the sheets and Stiles joined him after getting rid of unnecessary – excluding shirt and underwear - clothes.

'Show me how you're going to keep me entertained.'

(***)

Saturday. 03: 21.

Stiles woke up in a cold sweat. Next to him, Derek stirred. Stiles froze. He didn't want to disturb Derek.

'Stiles, what was that?'

Shit. And his throat was too dry for a decent dismissive chuckle.

'Nothing. Just, you know, a good old disembowelment dream. Hadn't had one of those in a while,' Stiles revealed, desperately playing down how much the dream had scared him. He shook his head to banish it from his mind, but it lingered unpleasantly. The agony and fear had been so vivid. He rolled onto his side. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark.

'Does this happen a lot?' Derek inquired. His voice was hoarse from sleep. Stiles could just about make out the outline of Derek's face. It was comforting in its closeness.

'What's a lot?'

'Good point.'

'No, seriously. Define a lot,' Stiles demanded. Something touched his chest. The first thing that sprung to mind was: spider. Derek didn't exactly strike him as the type to vacuum and dust and spiders probably loved his apartment. Luckily, Stiles reacted by lying absolutely still instead of shrieking like a little girl, because the spider turned out to be Derek's fingers. They caressed his chest.

'How often do you have nightmares?'

'I wouldn't call that a nightmare,' Stiles admitted, feeling Derek scoot closer. Soon the older man was wrapped around him. Who knew that Derek Hale could cuddle like a champion? Stiles talked about the real nightmares then. The ones about his mother and his father and Scott. About horrible things happening to the people he loved. He explained why those dreams were the worst. He could handle hurting. He could not handle watching. Dream Stiles was a lot like Awake Stiles in that respect. Derek didn't say anything. He just held him tighter.

'You're breaking your own rule,' Stiles pointed out.

'Shut up,' Derek grunted, smashing their mouths together. Stiles melted into the kiss. His body was fine with shutting up, but his damn brain evidently wasn't.

'You really don't mind that we're not gonna...?'

'I like kissing you,' Derek told him and that was that.


	8. Lydia

**Derek, Stiles and everything else**

**Lydia**

Saturday. 07:13.

When Stiles pressed his nose to Derek's, Derek growled. It was not a dangerous growl. Not even an annoyed growl. More like his voice was scratchy from lack of use. It was sexy as hell.

'Good morning,' Stiles whispered. Due to their proximity, it was half greeting, half fluttery kiss. Derek blinked the sleep from his eyes and leaned forward until they were properly kissing.

'Hey, I've been thinking,' Stiles mumbled, his voice muffled by Derek's mouth. 'I'm overqualified to be your boyfriend. Mythological creatures expertise: check. Sarcasm shield to deflect scary threats: check. Technology savvy: check. Dude, we're made for each other. Fingers crossed that I don't turn out to be secretly evil. _Again._'

Derek didn't so much as crack a smile. Come on, Stiles thought. That was funny.

'Too soon, huh?'

'Stiles, please. It's too early for you to be _you_,' Derek grumbled, rolling away from him. His back was framed nicely by the light when Derek opened the curtains. Hmm, Derek's back. Stiles could look at it all day. Pity that he couldn't see all of Derek at once. It was either his back or his ass or his face or his chest or his messed up hair which weirdly made him look even hotter. Choices, choices.

'Good to know that you've got one of those delightful moods for every hour of the day,' Stiles quipped. Derek sat down on the bed and started to put on jeans. Stiles, hanging over the edge of the bed, retrieved his shirt from the floor and handed it to Derek. The werewolf's nose twitched.

'I think I'll wear a clean one, but...' Derek paused to kiss him before continuing, '...thanks. Do you need a ride home?'

'Yeah. I didn't drive because I thought my dad might not see the car at Scott's or he might see it here and either way I'd be screwed. So, no car. Oh, I know! You could sling me around your neck Bella style and make like Edward,' Stiles proposed.

'Or we could take my car,' Derek suggested, raising his eyebrows. 'Twilight; _really_?'

'There are werewolves in those movies. It's called doing research, Derek,' Stiles countered, defensively. His attempt to pass the knowledge off as need-to-know stuff fell flat. Not that Stiles cared, because his first morning after... Not technically after anything, Stiles amended, because nothing happened, so more like before? Whatever. It was all going swimmingly.

No morning wood, though this would have been the logical time to sport some. Stiles had brushed his teeth to prevent morning breath - with Derek's toothbrush which he was never ever going to mention - before slipping back into bed. Derek must have some sort of supernatural advantage there, because his breath was minty fresh. And now Derek had offered to drive him home like a considerate boyfriend. Stiles was killing this whole dating thing.

(***)

'You can come in. My dad's at work. Do you want breakfast?' Stiles inquired, leaving the door open so Derek could follow him inside.

'He won't return unexpectedly, will he? Because me having breakfast here would raise some questions,' Derek remarked.

'Nope. Super busy. Big case. Definitely not coming home anywhere in the near future,' Stiles reassured Derek. Warily, Derek entered. Stiles closed the door and shepherded his tense boyfriend into the kitchen. They eyed each other.

'I'm not hungry,' Derek confessed.

'Me neither,' Stiles admitted. He looked with envy at Derek's shirt and stopped just short of sniffing himself. What did an unwashed human smell like to a werewolf?

'I'm gonna go take a shower,' Stiles announced. Something occurred to him. Something beautiful. He almost tripped over the words in his haste to get them out.

'Do you also want to take a shower?' he asked, resisting the urge to keep going. _Now. Here. At the same time. In the same shower. You and me. Naked. _He thought Derek would probably get it without those additional clues. Derek appeared conflicted. Act like a regular guy for once and say yes, Stiles mentally begged.

'I won't do anything. Scout's honour,' he pledged.

(***)

A little while later.

'Stiles!'

'I'm not, nor was I ever, actually a boy scout. Completely worthless oath. I can't be trusted.'

(***)

About a million lame jokes about being dirty later.

Stiles' virtue survived the shower intact. So, naturally, once they were dry and dressed, it didn't take long before Stiles was mauling Derek against the door of his bedroom. Stiles liked that word. _Mauling_. He could be an animal too if he wanted.

Derek hadn't been lying when he said that he liked kissing Stiles. He was all needy whimpers and hot curses. I'm doing that, Stiles had to tell himself. Knowing that Derek enjoyed it so much made kissing him feel even better. It was like the best feeling in the world. The satisfied purr coming from deep within Derek's throat excited Stiles beyond belief. He wanted more. He wanted Derek undone. Slowly, Stiles began to lower himself to his knees only to be unceremoniously hauled back up by his wrists. Derek pinned them to the wall.

'Don't you want me to?' Stiles asked, confused. Derek reacted by nuzzling Stiles' neck and sliding his thigh between Stiles' legs.

'Tell me...'

Derek breathed the words. He teased Stiles with sharp, little nips to his mouth and throat. He released Stiles' wrists. Stiles immediately grabbed the back of Derek's neck with both hands.

'...if you...'

While he spoke, Derek's hands worked in between them. They hiked up Stiles' shirt. It was such a turn on in how much of a hurry Derek was to get his hands on some bare skin. He was clumsy in his longing; his fingers fast, but fumbling. His hands finally slid underneath Stiles' shirt and rested on his stomach for a moment.

'...want me...'

The low rumble of that voice went right through Stiles.

'I want you. I want you,' he panted. Derek frowned. Stiles held his breath. Had he done something wrong? Derek kneeled down in front of him. Was this what Derek's impatience had been about? Had he been dying to get to this? Oh my God, Stiles thought. He swallowed, which made him think about Derek swallowing, about Derek's mouth... _Oh my God._

'...to stop. Stiles, tell me if you want me to stop,' Derek spelled out. Stiles chortled.

'Oh, no, that's not... By all means, continue what you were doing. I'm... I want that.'

Pretty soon Stiles' brain wasn't functioning so good. He couldn't think with Derek's mouth on his... When Stiles looked down, he saw Derek's mouth moving around his... Stiles closed his eyes. Dick. There, he thought it. Derek's mouth on his dick. Stiles strung together an incoherent sentence that consisted mainly of the phrase 'oh my God' repeated about fifty times with a couple of yeses thrown in there too.

(***)

When it was over – way too quickly – Stiles' brain kicked in again. It was his first time, but should he have lasted longer? Giving a blowjob was probably not as fun as getting one, so maybe Derek was glad to get it over with? Looking to Derek for clues, Stiles noticed that Derek was halfway to the bathroom.

'Where are you going?'

'To brush my teeth.'

'Oh,' Stiles said, deflated.

'Don't be dumb. I'm being nice. I like the taste of you in my mouth, but you might not.'

'Oh,' Stiles repeated, pleased. He took Derek's hand and pulled him towards the bed. They collapsed onto it with Stiles landing on top of Derek. He kissed Derek, propping himself up on his elbows to be able to gaze into Derek's eyes.

'You're really into me, aren't you? You know...'

'Ahem.'

'Scott!' Stiles squeaked. Startled, he banged his head against Derek's and dived off the bed. Judging by the throaty laughter that followed, Derek was unhurt. Stiles, on the other hand, was reduced to rubbing his forehead with a grimace while picking himself up from the floor.

'Wow, one minute earlier and this would have been awkward,' he joked.

'You two are... dating?' Scott guessed, closing the door and leaning against it.

'You didn't tell him about us?' Derek asked Stiles. He sounded pissed off.

'I didn't tell him with, like, _words_, but Scott knew. You knew, right? You didn't know? How could you not know? You encouraged me!' Stiles accused, his arms all over the place. Apologetically, Scott glanced at Derek before speaking.

'I knew that you had a thing for Derek. The attraction couldn't have been more obvious. But you have always carried a torch for Lydia, Stiles. I thought that you were in love with her; I didn't think you loved Derek. I did, however, know that he gave you the world's biggest boner. Something I'd rather not known.'

'I do, by the way. Love you, I mean,' Stiles told Derek. They smiled at each other. When they eventually remembered that someone else was in the room with them, Scott was beaming at them with a dopy grin.

'Aw!' he exclaimed. Derek rolled his eyes, but it lacked the usual punch. Scott beckoned Stiles into the hallway. Stiles obliged.

'You should have told me. Why didn't you?' Scott whispered. Yeah, that won't help, Stiles thought; we're barely out of the room.

'Would you have believed me?'

'Why wouldn't I?' Scott demanded, adding a bone dry, 'Your boyfriend is giving me the stink-eye.'

'That's just his face,' Stiles responded without looking.

'I heard that,' Derek protested. This time Stiles did turn around.

'Do you mind, Derek? We're trying to have a private conversation here.'

'You're three feet away,' Derek scoffed.

'Tune out. Hum a song or something.'

'I'll still hear. _Werewolf_.'

'Okay, listen then. Just keep quiet,' Stiles ordered, exasperated. He turned back to face Scott, who was watching them, clearly fascinated. Well, who could blame him?

'It could have been your dad walking in on you. Like legitimately walking in on you,' Scott pointed out. Buzzkill, Stiles thought. Also, how was he ever going to explain this to his dad?


End file.
